


Tectonic Upheavals

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5997049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal loitered in the doorway of Peter’s office, watching him work. Peter had been tired and preoccupied all day, and Neal had to tamp down concern that he was the cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tectonic Upheavals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> Many thanks to Sherylyn for beta and Ameripicking.

Neal loitered in the doorway of Peter’s office, watching him work. Peter had been tired and preoccupied all day, and Neal had to tamp down concern that he was the cause. He didn’t want Peter losing sleep because of him. He knocked lightly on the jamb. “Everything okay?”

Peter’s head came up quickly, the air of weariness dissolving into mild wariness. “Yeah, why? What have you done now?”

“Ha, funny.” Neal sauntered into the room, keeping his voice light. “No, I just got the feeling I was interrupting something with you and El last night when I dropped by with that lead on Watterson. You weren’t fighting about dry-cleaning again, were you?”

Peter’s gaze slid back to his desk, but Neal didn’t think he was seeing the file in front of him. And he didn’t say it was none of Neal’s business. “El and I are working through some stuff.”

“So _not_ fighting?” Neal sat in Peter’s visitor’s chair, leaned back and crossed his ankles on the corner of Peter’s deck so Peter could swipe them to the floor, which he duly did, albeit without his usual air of fond irritation. It was more a rote gesture. Something had him rattled. Neal sat up again. “Anything I can do to help?”

Peter scratched his neck and looked past Neal, through the glass wall of his office. “We’re fine.”

“Not your most convincing performance,” murmured Neal. He was starting to worry.

The corner of Peter’s mouth twisted with familiar exasperation. He met Neal’s gaze head-on and said with quiet emphasis, “El and I are fine.”

“Well, good,” said Neal, trying to read between the lines and failing. 

Someone passed in the hallway, their footsteps loud in the sudden silence. Peter’s computer was emitting a low-pitched hum, and Peter was breathing deep, still staring at him as if he expected Neal to pick up on some secret code. Neal had nothing, not a clue, but he couldn’t admit that. He was supposed to be infallible. 

“You want to get a drink after work?” he asked, thinking that would at least give him a chance to probe further.

Peter swallowed audibly. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

His pupils were dilated, and the tips of his ears were going— He was either lying or—or— 

For the first time in as long as Neal could remember, his brain stuttered. He blinked and mentally reviewed the conversation up to this point: _working through some stuff_ , _El and I are fine_. That odd, quiet intensity. Peter’s gaze. 

Neal’s mouth went dry. He was pretty sure—as sure as he could be, without actually asking and having it confirmed—that he’d just asked Peter out on a date, and Peter had incredibly and unexpectedly said yes. And Elizabeth was okay with it.

Neal’s own eyes were almost certainly giving him away right now, but he seriously didn’t give a crap. He took a breath that managed not to be shaky and forced a casual nod. “Okay, then. Great. We’ll—we’ll do that.”

“No pressure,” said Peter firmly, apparently seeing Neal’s surprise as well as the arousal. Jesus, Peter could see right _through_ him.

Neal suppressed a shiver that was at least as much excitement as it was alarm. His dissembling skills were temporarily on standby, verbal communication reduced to inanities, and his other mental faculties were in danger of malfunctioning too. _Peter and El had talked about this._ And for that conversation to have taken place, Peter had to have thought about it, had to want it enough to broach the subject—he must want—

Neal gasped slightly, covered it belatedly with a cough. “No pressure,” he agreed hoarsely. 

He had to get out of here and regain his cool before he made a complete fool of himself and Peter changed his mind. But Peter was actually smirking now, and those crinkles around his eyes had deepened, as if he _liked_ that Neal was a half-aroused incoherent mess. Maybe he figured that leveled the playing field. Neal shook his head and headed for the door. “See you later, Mario.”

“Yeah,” said Peter behind him, under his breath so Neal wasn’t even sure if Peter were speaking to him or to himself. “I will see you later.”

 

END


End file.
